Footsteps on a Different Path
by Kneazle
Summary: Revision of "Wyckham Academy." AU: Harry Potter takes the option to attend another school of magic... does not being at Hogwarts still make him the Boy-Who-Lived?
1. A Single Step

Footsteps on a Different Path

(formerly, "Wyckham Academy")

**Summary**: AU: Harry Potter takes the option to attend another school of magic… does not being at Hogwarts still make him the Boy-Who-Lived?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, any other characters, worlds, affiliates, etc., except for any new names you do not recognize which are oh-so-obviously mine.

* * *

_It's choice - not chance - that determines your destiny._

Jean Nidetch

* * *

_Prologue_

_London, England: January 1, 1981_

Anita Hartz rang in the New Year at a local bar with her fiancé, Rhys Wyckham. They had had been dating since their final year at secondary school, and together just completed their first semester of first year at Oxford majoring in English. Anita was hoping to be a teacher one day.

The two staggered out of the bar as it neared 3 am, laughing over a group of students' latest commentary on their most hated Professor. Rhys was leaning against Anita, his arm slung over Anita's back to hold him upright. Rhys was, after all, more of a drinker than Anita would ever be.

"Alright, Rhys?" Anita asked. She only had a pint and was the designated driver for the evening, happily giving her fiancé all the drinks he wanted, with a new bottle of Tylenol at the flat waiting for him when they got in.

"Sure," slurred Rhys, grinning widely. They laughed together in the silence of the evening as other late-night stragglers wandered off in London, looking for their next party or a bed.

The two walked slowly down a narrow cobblestone lane, quietly snickering and looking for the nearest tube station. As they turned a corner, they heard a distant, but distinct, shout and stopped.

Although Rhys was fairly wasted, he had enough street-sense to sober himself up as much as possible, especially if there would be any danger. Anita, on the other hand, froze, and started to hyperventilate when multicolour beams of light sailed through the air. A tall, young man came barrelling around the corner, panting heavily, nearly running into the two.

"What are you doing here?" he gasped. "Run! Death Eaters!"

Perplexed, Rhys was going to ask him what he meant by Death Eaters, when he grabbed his shoulder and began tugging the two after him, back the way they came.

Briskly as a group with a semi-drunk could be, they made it to the same bar they had vacated earlier, and entered. There was still a large after-two crowd, who were no longer drinking but singing rowdily and watching the telly: a foreign football game was on. The man they were with sunk heavily into a booth, facing the bar door but half-hidden in shadows.

Rhys looked curiously at him and asked, "What's a Death Eater?"

The man whipped his head around to face the two before groaning. He hid his face in his hands. "_Muggles_!"

"Pardon?" asked Anita, blinking. She was very confused, what exactly was a Muggle or a Death Eater? She asked as much.

The man leaned forward and said, as quietly as possible with force behind his words, "you must believe me – there is a world out there, hidden underneath your nose that would never believe exists."

"Kind of like an underground society, then?" asked Anita.

The man nodded. "Yes. But imagine that they hide themselves amongst you. And imagine that they can do magic, where spells exist, where dragons and witches and wizards are real."

Rhys nodded along drunkenly. "I once thought I saw a dragon!" He hiccupped.

Anita looked at him strangely, wondering why this story never came up before.

"Oh?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded. "I was nine an' mam an' dad an' I were in Norway an' this _huge_ beast of a thing landed in the water and snapped a fishing boat in two!" He frowned. "We left immediately afterward, leaving our tour guide, an' when we met up with him again he couldn't remember the dragon, but we could."

The man nodded. "Norwegian Ridgeback. Nasty blighters they are."

Anita stared. "Ok, let's humour you, and say that this world is real – who are Death Eaters?"

The man sighed. "Just like how your world has its good and bad guys, so does the magical world. And the Death Eaters are the worst of the lot."

Rhys opened his mouth to ask another question, but the man (who was looking out the bar window) gave a startled jump, and slipped a stick onto the table just as the door burst open and a voice exclaimed, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

A green light flashed across the room and the bartender fell to the floor, with the glass he was cleaning shattered next to him.

Following that was panic.

People began running to the doors, any exit they could find, the bathrooms, breaking windows – Rhys took a step away from the booth, fists raised and arming himself for a fight—and was swallowed by the mass of people still in the bar.

"Rhys!" cried Anita, sliding across the booth seat. "Rhys!"

The man reached out and grabbed her arm. "_No_! They'll kill you! Your friend should be fine."

Anita shrieked, "That's my fiancé! _Rhys_!"

The man frowned, but pushed Anita under the table to hide. The man then fingered his stick – Anita thought it would be a wand, if he was telling the truth – and began to murmur under his breath.

He then turned to face Anita, and she sucked in her breath, startled by the intensity of the man's face. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this," he said. "They hate anyone non-magical, and those born from non-magical parents. Bigots, prejudice arses they all are. Just remember, we're not all like them!"

He then turned back to face the laughing group of seven, ready to spring out from his hiding place.

"Wait!" Anita called. "Who are you?"

The man looked back and frowned, before saying, "I'm Matthew. Matthew Blake."

Anita nodded, and the man left. She was terrified for Matthew, but even more so for Rhys. Anita clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes, praying for everything to be over. She couldn't see, but she could hear. She could hear the cries of patrons in the bar, their screams of terror and sobs. She could hear a bunch of weird words and phrases shouted back and forth and things exploding and the telly bursting into a shower of sparks and cables.

All too soon or far longer that she initially thought, the bar fell silent save for four loud cracks that filled the air. Holding her breath, Anita counted to thirty and then counted some more until she heard the wail of police, fire and ambulance sirens. She then crept out from under the table, and felt her eyes begin to tear up at the carnage in front of her.

Bloodied bodies lay in the room, a few breathing shallowly and in need of medical attention. As Anita stumbled around bodies and slipping on glasses and beer bottles, she came across one person she had hoped had escaped.

"Oh, oh no… _Rhys_…"

The medics found her sobbing next to her fiancé's corpse.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore found her a week later; she was huddled under her bed covers, in the flat she used to share with Rhys. There were empty Chinese, Thai and take-out containers littering the kitchen, and the air in the flat was stale.

He had knocked on the door several times with no answer, but the landlord below had assured him that she was in, "the poor, wee thing," he had added, looking forlornly up at the flat above him.

Dumbledore learned about Anita through one of the Aurors in the Department, who liaised with the Oblivators. They were missing several witnesses, some who escaped before the Death Eaters managed to kill everyone in the bar. The other, Anita, came from the witness report the paramedics took when they found the near-comatose girl beside her dead fiancé. Instead of the girl's memories being tarnished and rewritten, especially after such a traumatic event in losing the love of her life, Dumbledore hastened to track her down himself.

A whispered "alohamora" opened her front door, and he stepped into the small, but comfortable, flat. Evidence of her shared life was everywhere—in pictures decorating the bookshelves, in the two separate sets of textbooks, to the paired dishes in the sink—and it made Dumbledore's heart twist in sympathy.

Anita did not respond to seeing a strange, elderly looking man standing beside her in her bedroom. She did not seem to see the wizard—or didn't seem to care. In the end, knowing what he had to say as important, Dumbledore pushed aside his morals and cast the strongest Cheering Charm he could on the non-magical girl.

When she looked up at him, Anita wasn't grinning, or cheerful like the charm advertised; instead, she was aware of her surroundings but still despondent.

"Who're you?" she asked, quietly, still huddled under her covers. Her voice was flat.

"I am Albus Dumbledore," replied the wizard. "I am sorry for entering your home without permission, but you were not answering your door." He gave her a look over top of his glasses. "Your landlord is quite worried about you."

"I haven't left," answered Anita, calmly.

"You need to get out, Anita," replied Dumbledore, softly. "Do you have family you can return to?"

Anita scoffed. "Go back to Wales? I'll be even more depressed there than here. At least there's still noise."

"You'll get lost, my dear. I'm afraid you already are," sighed Dumbledore.

Anita frowned, looking carefully at the man, as if seeing him for the first time. "Just what are you doing here? Are you another wizard here to finish me off?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to answer, but closed it, frowning. Is that what she thought of the magical world?

"Anita…" Dumbledore trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. "I run an organisation that is fighting against those that harmed your friends and your… fiancé that evening. I don't want your help, my dear—rather, we would like to help you."

"Help me?" she repeated, staring at him. "You want to _help_ _me_? Please, Dumbledore, tell me how. Can your magic bring back Rhys? Can you turn back time to stop the Death Eaters from killing him?"

"I—" Dumbledore sighed. "No, Anita, magic cannot bring him back."

"So what can you and your group _possibly_ do for me?" asked Anita, cruelly. "Your magical world, your magical _wands_ and people have taken away the most important person in the world to me. Just what are you thinking of doing?"

"There will be people who will want to change your memories," answered Dumbledore, bluntly. "So that you don't remember that night, or change it so that something different happened.

"I want you to see the good side of magic. You experienced something terrible, Anita, but right now you're letting it drown you. Yes, you lost the person you love—but you're not the first person who has and you certainly won't be the last. Grieve, but remember the good memories. Be depressed, but laugh at the silly things you used to do with Rhys. Dream, if only to keep his dreams going as well."

Anita stared at Dumbledore from her bed, looking at the wizard like he was the strangest thing she had ever seen; and he probably was, wearing his garish purple robes with flashing stars, his long beard tucked into his belt.

She thought of his words, and slowly they sunk in. Rhys was dead. He wouldn't be coming back. But would he want her to be like this?

"I can't turn off my feelings that quickly," she whispered, eyes filling with tears.

Dumbledore smiled gently at her. "No one is asking you to, my dear. Just… remember and take each day as it comes, waking up and keeping to your routine. You can't dwell on the 'what ifs' or the 'what could be' and forget to live."

"It'll take time," she replied quietly.

"These things do."

Dumbledore turned to look around her room, messy with forgotten clothing and perfume bottles and men's cologne, and waved his wand. Clothing became clean and folded or placed in the wardrobe; take-out boxes were stacked neatly by the recycling and the room's stale scent turned fresh, like lavender.

"Take the time you need to grieve, Anita," Dumbledore said finally, as the girl stared in awe at his wand. "But don't forget to live, either. Only you would know what Rhys would want you to do. Remember that. And when you're ready to see the other side of magic, I'll know. Take your time."

The man disappeared right out of her bedroom with a _pop!_ scaring her to death. She looked around the room, wondering where he went, but when he didn't reappear, she sunk back down on the bed.

Sighing, Anita got out of the bed, thinking about changing the bed sheets and what else she had to do. She had put off some things for long enough. Maybe Dumbledore was right—she couldn't forget to live, but she could still grieve for Rhys while she did so.

* * *

_London, England: November 1, 1981_

Anita was shopping for her parents' Christmas present, even though it was two months in advance. It was strange not getting anything for Rhys, this year, but she was determined to continue with her plans for the year. One thing she knew for certain, he wouldn't want her to stop studying because something happened to him.

Instead, Anita took her bereavement time off school to do some thinking and naval-gazing. Although her incident with Dumbledore had shaken her—what _else_ could wizards do?—she did think he meant his words genuinely and kind-heartedly.

And while the ache of losing Rhys would take a long time to fade—if it ever did—Anita was determined to make him proud of her and her decisions. He had dreams of things he wanted to do, like visiting the Great Wall of China, or drinking espresso in Milan, or ride a mechanical bull in Texas. Anita promised herself she would honour his dreams and wishes and took it upon herself to do them one day.

However, she also wanted to honour her wishes and dreams to become an educator one day. So, her studies were taking up a lot of her time and she wanted to take advantage of the break she had to get her shopping done now instead of later.

The streets were unusually crowded in downtown London, with people wearing crazy mismatched clothing and wearing robes and pointed hats. Anita didn't think much of it, until a group of elderly women passed by, their faces bright and animated.

"– Praise be! You-Know-Who is finally gone!"

"All thanks to that young Potter boy –"

"– Poor dear… orphaned, no parents anymore –"

"– Muggles don't seem to ever understand –"

Anita stopped, and turned to face the women, calling out loudly, "Excuse me?"

The three, all wearing those funny robes and pointy hats, similar to Dumbledore's outfit several months ago, and looked at her blankly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overhear, but you… you said 'Muggles.' Do you mean non-magical people?" Anita would never forget that New Years Day, even if she wanted to. Those scenes still visited her in her dreams, and the ache was still too great to never feel it.

The three women shared uneasy glances, but Anita interrupted quickly. "No, please, I'm a Muggle, but my fiancé, we were attacked earlier this year by Death Eaters–"

One woman let out a murmur. "You poor thing, survived, did you?"

Anita swallowed thickly.

The other two murmured their own condolences and one pursed her lips before looking around. She stepped forward and wrapped her arm around Anita and asked, "Can you take a walk with us, dear?"

Anita nodded again, feeling foolish. She was far too trusting. "I can finish my Christmas shopping later."

With the older women congregating around her, they walked off, and Anita learned more about the wizard world than their government wanted Muggles to know about, especially without any family involved in their world.

* * *

_London, England: June 23, 1982_

Anita had grown close to the elderly witches, and spent every free weekend she could in London having Sunday tea at the Leaky Cauldron. Initially surprised to find such an establishment existed, she quickly grew to enjoy the quirks of the wizard world and found herself defending non-magical people – she took a quick disliking to the term "Muggle" as she considered it derogatory term – from prejudiced wizards.

She constantly thought back to the offer Dumbledore had extended to her. The elderly witches, Augusta Longbottom (whose son and daughter-in-law were tortured to insanity just days after she first met them), Matilda Warbeck and Michaela Davis, were surprised when Anita had told them about Dumbledore's visit, citing him to be a busy, important figurehead in the magical world.

Anita, although she never said it, was surprised too. What made her special or her situation unique enough to warrant his attention? In the end, Anita slowly wanted to know more about the world that took her fiancé from her. Not the bad, because there would always be a bad taste in her mouth when thinking about that world, but about the good, the things Dumbledore wanted her to know about.

The witches then happily informed her of the comings and goings of the wizard world and when they learnt Anita wished to be a teacher began telling her tales of Hogwarts.

And after each one, she found herself getting more and more upset.

The wizard world seemed to completely neglect muggleborns, who give up seven years of their life only to be disregarded because of their background. There was also a high illiteracy rate in young wizards and witches who did not receive the proper help when their ailments were discovered.

When Anita began to explain how non-magical children were educated, and how Hogwarts should offer more courses, Ms. Longbottom quipped, "Why don't you do something about it, dear? You are going to Canterbury Christ Church for your PGCE this upcoming September, and will be a licensed teacher."

Anita blinked, shocked; she would be a teacher and could do something! Then, her dreams shattered around her. She wasn't magical; there already was a magical school that was considered the premiere in Europe. She couldn't even defend herself against magical users. What good was she to them?

That night, when she got in to the same flat that she and Rhys originally lived in, there was a large, beautiful bird perched on an armchair. It was orange with scarlet plumes and tail feathers, with bright, beady black eyes and warm, inviting warble.

It also had a letter clutched in its talons.

The letter was for Anita, inviting her to come and visit Dumbledore at Hogwarts, in Scotland. Fawkes, the phoenix (making Anita stare for several moments at the preening bird), would arrive at their arranged time to whisk her away to the castle and then back to her home at her request.

Anita, intrigued, agreed; the next day at eight in the morning, she was standing in a field just outside the magical town of Hogsmeade, thinking about doing her laundry and was strongly compelled to turn around and _go do her laundry_ when Dumbledore appeared beside her and tapped her on the head with his wand.

The compulsion disappeared and the two began one of the strangest days Anita would ever experience.

That night, back in London and safely tucked up in bed, Anita thought back on the day and her discussion with Dumbledore in his office before Fawkes would return her to her flat.

"What did you think of Hogwarts?" he asked.

Anita thought carefully. "I think for the magical world it's exactly what you need. But I think there are things that could be easily changed or adapted to different methods for easier teaching strategies."

"Hogwarts is our history. A thousand years of tradition is hard to change," argued Dumbledore with a smile.

Anita smiled back. "Yeah, I know. And I'm not saying it's wrong… it's just… things could be made smoother if you changed things. Doesn't mean I'm right, or you are, or it could be we're both right and wrong. Just some of the things aren't really working, and I feel like others, particularly parents of non-magical first-generation witches and wizards might feel like their children are being cheated out of the education they could also receive at Oxford, or Cambridge. You know?"

Dumbledore nodded. "The board is firm in their decisions. I know you and Augusta have several conversations about Pureblood tradition. Could you really see them changing their views on the Hogwarts curriculum or the system here?"

Anita laughed. "Not a chance." They both fell silent, until Anita spoke again. "Why me? Why did you offer me this opportunity? Surely there were others who escaped that night or other nights with their memories?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I wondered when you would ask. I know what it is like, to lose someone you love. It cripples you, it destroys you. And for some time I was aimless. I had hoped that perhaps I could do something for you, as there had been no one for me in my time of need. Or maybe you just reminded me of myself when I was younger—eager to face the world with the right person at my side, change things."

"And now?" Anita asked, gently.

Dumbledore toasted her with his teacup. "I still see something of me in you. The drive to change things, to learn and teach. You question things, something I don't do, which pains me to admit. Perhaps you can go a step further that I cannot. However many titles I hold, I am still limited by the role I play in each position, as well as what I can do within Hogwarts."

"Now you're just trying to be humble," argued Anita, laughingly. "But thanks. It was nice to see the school—it's beautiful… but at the end of the day, it's hard to forget that someone who went here is the reason Rhys is dead."

"Would you ever want to see more of our world?" asked Dumbledore.

Anita shook her head. "I think I've seen enough. I know enough now." She stood, and Dumbledore rose from behind his desk. "Thank you, Albus. Thank you for trusting me enough with your secret and for saying the right things when I needed to hear them."

Anita took a look around the office, at the smiling or frowning portraits on the walls, at Fawkes, at the books and knickknacks.

"But this world isn't for me to change. You need someone to do it," she finally said, ending the conversation.

Now, back home, Anita nodded firmly to herself as she got ready for bed. The magical world took something away from her, and she had to live with that for the rest of her life. She learned, studied, and experienced that world with as much as an open mind as she could, given the situation. And now, she was done with it.

Or so she thought, for several years.

* * *

_Cardiff, Wales: June 18, 1985_

She was surprised when the phone rang. Anita was even more surprised when, after picking it up, the voice at the other end said, "Anita? This is Albus Dumbledore. Would you mind if I come by later today?"

He apparated into her back garden after one in the afternoon dressed in his usual garish robes and pointed hat. Anita greeted him, leaning against her back door jamb.

"Albus," she said, a small smile on her face. "Tea?"

"Yes, please," he answered, and she nodded, motioning him into her kitchen. Boxes were stacked here and there, some in neat little piles and others open and half-filled. Anita found her teapot in one.

After boiling the kettle, and waiting patiently, she gestured for him to start talking. "I take it this isn't a social call," she suggested, looking at him.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid I am in a bit of a bind. I… would like advice."

"From me?" queried Anita, surprise lacing her voice. The kettle whistled and she poured hot water into the two mugs.

"Yes," replied Dumbledore, quietly. "You offer a unique perspective that my staff and those I call friends may not help me with."

"Right," answered Anita, shortly. "Well, what's the problem?"

"One Mr. Harry Potter."

"Ah."

Anita nodded. She had an idea what this was about. Harry Potter was the topic _du jour_ of the wizarding world, and nearly every meeting with her witch friends had Anita learning more about the boy—more myths and half-truths, that is. Thinking of a few things and then considering them when they didn't add up, she began to do some snooping in the non-magical world and found the Dursleys. Then, everything made sense.

"You made a nasty little mistake there, Albus," said Anita finally. "I've looked into them. They're… mean spirited little shits, really."

"Yes, thank you," the wizard replied, sourly.

"So what's the problem then? I can't imagine a beat-down kid like that is going to give you a hard time at Hogwarts in a few years time," she questioned, wrapping her hands around her mug.

Dumbledore scratched at his crooked nose before replying. Finally, after deciding on what to say, he bluntly answered, "I've received information that Voldemort is not as gone as I would like to believe."

Anita's mouth dropped open into an 'o.'

Dumbledore continued, "The thing is… I want Harry to have a normal childhood. And from what I've observed and seen at Hogwarts, between the students and staff, he will not get that. They're all terribly excited about his arrival—except Severus of course, but I've never seen him even smile except grin when Slytherin won the House Cup last year..."

"He's the Boy-Who-Lived, Albus, of course he's not going to get it at that school of yours where _everyone_ knows him."

Albus frowned, but nodded accordingly. "Yes, true—but—I want him to not worry or experience the trouble with fame."

"He's going to have to deal with it sometime," argued Anita, reasonably. "Better now than when he hits puberty."

Dumbledore's lips twitched into a smile. "I can understand that, but… as much as it pains me, I don't know if Hogwarts is the best place for him."

"Albus, let's try to be honest here," said Anita instead, "You don't want him to be famous, but you need him to learn magic. He's the only known survivor of the Killing Curse, and you think that if he wasn't at Hogwarts he'd be safer at another school? At least you know your staff and students."

"I understand that, Anita," replied Dumbledore, after taking a sip from his tea. "When I think of his parents, when they started Hogwarts, and what he is like… I'm beginning to think that placing him with the Dursleys wasn't such a good idea."

"It wasn't. Full stop."

The wizard looked pained at the admission. "I… see."

Anita drank from her mug. "I still don't see what the problem is, other than you thinking he's not going to do well at Hogwarts anymore."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Well, that is… I was hoping that you might consider….?"

"What? Me? Go to Hogwarts and teach there?" asked Anita, incredulous. "Not a fucking chance, Dumbledore."

"No…" he trailed off. "I… you were right, those years ago. About Hogwarts. Things need to change, but most wizards are scared of it. I was thinking about what you said. The things that you would change, and how you would change them."

Anita was staring at Dumbledore, her eyes wide and a frightened expression on her pale face. As she stared, Dumbledore finally noticed the boxes around her kitchen.

"Are you going somewhere?" he finally asked.

Anita started out of her stupor. "Rhys' parents have a summer home in Switzerland. They've retired now and don't like travelling there and back anymore but they don't want to sell just yet. They asked me if I could go and keep it for them, signing over the deed to the land. It was supposed to be a wedding gift." She laughed bitterly and looked shrewdly at Dumbledore. "You once told me I had to keep going and live some dreams, Dumbledore—Rhys always wanted to vacation there with me and we never got the chance. I thought I'd go and see what it's like now."

"I see…" He then smiled brightly and suggested, "You could always make a school there!"

"Please tell me you're not suggesting what I'm hearing," she whispered.

Dumbledore cheerfully ignored her. "I was thinking something like a sister school for Hogwarts? Perhaps one where you were in charge?"

"Albus…"

"Or not? You'd prefer to remain a teacher instead?"

Anita stared at the insane wizard as he kept trying to entice her with running a magical school, with the sole purpose of getting Harry prepared for whatever eventual plans Dumbledore had in mind.

"Get out," she heard herself whisper.

Dumbledore continued blithely on.

"Get out," she said, louder, her own voice startling her as she heard the anguish in it. "Get the fuck out of my house right now."

Startled, Dumbledore blinked from behind his half-moon glasses and then slowly nodded. "I see. It's far too soon to begin asking you of this."

He stood, taking his wizard's hat with him. As he reached her back door, he politely said, "Thank you for the tea, Anita. Thank you for listening to an old man and his dreams. Your counsel was appreciated and I will consider those over the next few months. I wish you all the best in Switzerland."

With a small bow of his head, Dumbledore disapparated from her kitchen, leaving Anita, pale faced, staring at the spot where he last stood.

* * *

_Outside Neuchâtel, Switzerland: May 15, 1986_

Rhys' parents' summer home turned out to be a large monastery that was converted into a hotel at the turn of the century and then fell into disuse after the 1920s. His family, who made a fair amount of money in hotel renovations around the globe, acquired the Swiss hotel in the 40s before the war and made a slight successful run with American, British and Colombian tourists in the 50s and 60s before closing the hotel to family use.

Located in the Forêt de Peseux, on the Chaumont mountain and near the Abbaye de Fontaine-André, the Wyckham Estate was a fifteen-acre plot of land nestled on a flattened parcel of land, overlooking Lake Neuchâtel. The old monastery, from the twelfth century, was still prevalent in the architecture and design of the estate, from the traditional Swiss mortar and exposed wooden beams, to the interior stone design and cosy and nestled rooms.

Elisabeth and Richard Wyckham did not dismiss the staff from their positions within the hotel – which, although given its size boasted over 100 rooms, three reception rooms, two restaurants and a conservatory – and Anita was glad for the company of them.

Anita took several trips into Neuchâtel and fell in love with the nearby Lausanne, barely an hours' train ride away. Visiting Bern was for special trips, such as visiting the bears and enjoying the medieval architecture, and Basel and Zurich for expensive shopping trips, given their distance.

Anita arrived in the middle of skiing season and enjoyed learning to ski at the Neuchâtel Golf and Country Club located further up the mountain. As the snows melted and buds blossomed on the trees, Anita began to feel a sense of peace she hadn't in years since Rhys's death.

Then, Albus Dumbledore reappeared.

Anita allowed the elderly wizard to have his say as they walked the grounds around the estate, towards a fantastic pagoda with stone bench and rose garden, which looked toward the lake.

"This is crazy…"

Dumbledore eyed her carefully from his glasses. "Anita… this is what you were telling me to do several years ago. We need someone to change the educational system and I couldn't do it then, and truthfully, I can't do it now. But there's nothing from _someone else_ starting up a private magical school that is run singularly on the tuition and donations of its students and families. And I think you're right; the magical world needs a change. It's stagnant. Your ideas are good."

"No one would attend," she whispered back, looking out at the blue lake. "A rival school to Hogwarts? What would people say?"

"I think we could find several who would be interested. And I would help Harry make his mind up, for at least a year, to attend. Several witches and wizards would go to a new school primarily for the reason that Harry would be attending it," answered Dumbledore, instead, gently. "As for what people would say, well, leave that to me. I still hold sway with the IWC and the Wizengamot."

"The paperwork… the hiring…" protested Anita weakly. "The location…"

"I know enough contacts that you could find people. Moreover, I think you have a lovely location right here, at the Wyckham Estate. I would help, especially as I'd like it to be ready for this September."

"WHAT?"

To say that Dumbledore wanted the impossible was an understatement. In the end, Anita had to place limitations on his request. They sequestered themselves in one of the reception rooms in the hotel, near a wood-burning fire the staff had kindly fanned for them.

"If you want me to do this," she began, warning him seriously, "You _have_ to let me have full control. We'll be a sister-school, sure—but Albus, in the end, it'll be my school run like how I want it to be. There will be academic Hogwarts curriculum classes, in addition to GCSE, A-Level classes and non-magical studies, including the International Baccalaureate. No houses; more sports than just Quidditch."

"That sounds fair," agreed Dumbledore. "I know of several who would want to send their children there already."

"I handle the estate. I hire the teachers," she continued. "And since it's too late in the year, any children who switch from Hogwarts to this sister-school will not have additional fees. The tuition will be covered completely, as well as uniform changes and book fees."

Dumbledore winced, knowing that Hogwarts would receive a severe budget cut, but as it was his proposition… "Yes, that sounds fair as well."

Anita eyed him. "Really?"

"Yes."

She sighed and looked down at the piece of paper she was using to jot notes. "Lord above, I don't know how we're going to be able to get this done in about three weeks, Albus. Renovate parts of the hotel, hire teachers, write schedules, get furniture, design uniforms, set booklists, and get letters out." She looked up, in concern. "How are you going to tell everyone?"

"I'd send out letters to all the households of students attending Hogwarts to inform them," he replied.

Anita began chewing her lips. "Are you sure about this? _Really_ sure about it? If Harry's not at Hogwarts, don't you think there will be some public backlash? At a school taught by a _Muggle_?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "There would be regardless. We'll just keep it quiet until then."

Anita sighed. "Fine. But you need to tell him, Albus." She then looked carefully at the elderly wizard. "And I mean, _everything_. You've got about five years to think of it, but until then, we need to start getting this place ready."

* * *

_Neuchâtel, Switzerland: September 8, 1987_

It took longer than Dumbledore wanted, but the hotel wasn't fit for receiving students. There was a lot of legal red tape, from Britain and from Switzerland, before Anita or Dumbledore could progress further in their plans. It helped, though, that the two nearest magical schools from Switzerland was Beauxbatons at five hours by car in Marseille, France and Drumstrang, somewhere in Latvia at over a day away by car.

France was infinitely closer than Latvia, but with Hogwarts being the northern tip of the magical schools in Europe, the IWC decided that they needed a central point to tie in the southern schools in Greece, Egypt and the Canary Islands, where three smaller schools of magic were located.

After that, it was to register the school as an international British boarding school with the Swiss government, which was incredibly difficult as the school had no Swiss ties, other than the property being owned by a British national. Dumbledore had to pull some more strings, but that finally went through.

Then, Anita began the inventory of the hotel and how she could change or amend the rooms to suit the purpose of a school without skyrocketing costs. No matter what, it would drain her meagre savings account.

In the end, the majority of the reception rooms (except the one with the fireplace) and the conference rooms were converted into classrooms. A chunk of Anita's savings went into the emerging SmartBoard technology from Canada.

Slowly, though, the Wyckham Hotel and estate began to look less like an empty manor home to an empty school, awaiting its students.

Augusta, Michaela, Matilda and Albus Dumbledore came to visit in the summer of '87, as the construction and movers finished their work and their contracts were complete.

The grounds in summer were breathtaking; the historic school setting rivalled Hogwarts' history; with 100 bedrooms hosting double beds, Anita converted them into twin-bed rooms, each able to host two students per room, with lots of room. Ideally, the estate could teach over 200 students—but given Hogwarts, at its peak after the Blood Wars, barely taught 650, it was unlikely she'd fill to capacity… unless they extended invitations to international students…

"Marvellous," breathed Augusta, "Simply marvellous, Anita dear. This will be a lovely location for a school. After seeing your plans for the curriculum as well, I do believe I'll be considering Neville for here!"

"There's just one thing missing," stated Dumbledore, with a twinkle in his eyes. "What shall you name it?"

Anita had a Mona Lisa smile on her face as she replied. "Wyckham Academy."

That September, Hogwarts lost twenty Muggleborn students. Dumbledore did not feel their financial loss, and sadly, the school didn't notice their disappearance. Most were upper-year class men, some first years, but not enough to notice to significant change in the Hogwarts community.

However, there were five Beauxbatons transfers and a surprisingly large number of Italian, Swiss and German students who also applied.

Anita was beginning to think she might need to make Wyckham less 'open for all' in the future. Her staff was hired based on discretion, skill and creativity; all underwent extensive background checks. The estate's staff, from when Rhys' parents owned the land, had left a year previous, pleased with their final pay package and eager to return to Britain after so long away.

Anita was just glad to get away from Britain and its memories.

As the 1987-1988 school year finished, Anita and her administrative staff began sloughing through the applicants for the 1988-1989 year, tightening their admissions rules and unfortunately upping their tuition costs. Word spread from the current students – a mere forty – about their mixed academics, their winter ski trips to the Alps, their autumn and spring trips to Milan, Paris and Zurich, their sports competitions with other American and British schools in Switzerland, their visits to Geneva and the UN…

Although initially unsure about what she got herself into, Anita was beginning to flourish and felt that Wyckham Academy was slowly coming into its own as well.

The days on the calendar flew by, and soon Anita was flying out of Basel airport to London, planning to meet Albus Dumbledore for their most important visit yet.

* * *

_Surrey: July 12, 1991_

Harry Potter, turning eleven in three weeks, always knew he was special – but never in his right mind did he actually believe he was this special!

A week ago, at the beginning of July, a brochure and information package had been sent to Number 4, Privet Drive, addressed to his Aunt and Uncle, care of Harry Potter. The return stamp and address was for Switzerland, causing them some confusion. Who did Harry know that lived in Switzerland?

At first, they had been surprised, but not _too_ surprised. His elementary school had mentioned in his report card that they would possibly be sending his and Dudley's school records to the house as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had not specified where the two preteens would go to for their secondary education.

When Vernon and Petunia had opened the package though, they were surprised by the official notification letter on cream paper, which was printed out specifically for Harry's guardians with reference to his name.

They showed surprise when viewing the colourful multi-page pamphlet that had pictures of students in a high-tech science lab, wearing lab coats, the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in the library, an indoor gym and swimming pool. They were surprised at the pictures of the outdoors: forested grounds, meticulously pruned flowers and a view of a large lake…

But there were other pictures as well: pictures of students waving sticks and working over cauldrons, flying around on broomsticks in the air, playing some sort of sport.

Uncle Vernon wanted to chuck the brown envelope and its contents, but Petunia said something that caused both Harry and Dudley – who were eavesdropping – to start.

"This isn't from Hogwarts, Vernon; it's not from the school my sister went to!" Petunia whispered harshly. "Look at the pictures; read the letter sent along by the Headmistress, they combine normal classes with those freakish ones!"

"Do you think that freakish school will send the boy a letter as well?" asked Vernon gruffly.

"It's possible."

"And what are your feelings on this, Pet?"

Harry held his breath. Would he finally learn about his past? His parents?

"I would rather the boy go to this Academy place than Hogwarts. It looks better than what Lily used to say, at the very least. I suppose it's the boy's choice."

Aunt Petunia didn't sound all that happy to say that, though.

* * *

_A week later…_

Anita met Albus Dumbledore outside the Dursley residence and burst out laughing at his tweed jacket with elbow patches.

"Welcome to the sixties!" she laughed, wheezing as she stood up and motioned at her fashionable trouser suit. "I think I'd best do the talking."

Privet Drive was immaculate, and number four, even more so. Anita grimaced, thinking of the lies and the blackmailing she'd possibly have to engage in to get Petunia and Vernon to listen to her. With Dumbledore at her side, however, they might be able to not resort to "magical trickery." Her research, years ago, into the Dursley residence left Anita ill prepared for the real thing, unfortunately, when Petunia answered the door and then slammed it in their faces.

Anita sighed, knocking again. "Mrs. Dursley? My name is Anita Hartz. I'm the Headmistress of a school in Swizterland. I know you received our informational brochure that we sent out in June. Please open the door before Mr. Dumbledore and I come in."

Petunia was scowling as she opened the door again, looking left and right for any neighbours watching her. Anita and Dumbledore entered the small rowhouse and followed Petunia to the lounge where Dudley sat watching television. Harry was nowhere to be seen.

"You're from that Wyckham Academy," said Petunia with a sniff, looking at Anita and everywhere but Dumbledore, who sat quietly.

"Yes," confirmed Anita calmly, folding her hands in her lap. "And as you know, Albus Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts School."

Petunia recoiled as though slapped. "He's not going! He's going to Stonewall Secondary."

Anita and Dumbledore shared a glance. Gently, as much as she could given her knowledge of the household, "Mrs. Dursley, please allow me to explain. Harry's name has been down for Hogwarts since his birth. While it is possible for you to send him to Stonewall, there will still be… unexplained incidents when he becomes angry or frightened. He'll have no way of controlling his abilities."

The thought of Harry continuing to do freakishness had Petunia paling as she sunk into an armchair. Dudley, throughout the discussion, remained oblivious.

"Dumbledore and I," continued Anita, indicating at the wizard, "Believe that Hogwarts is not the best place for Harry."

Here, Petunia looked lost.

"While I would like to see Harry at my school, where his parents attended, I do believe that he would be better off at Anita's school instead of Hogwarts," answered Dumbledore, to Petunia's unasked question. "We would like to offer him the opportunity to experience Wyckham Academy for a year of his school. If he finds that he wants a more traditional experience, he will attend Hogwarts."

"The choice must be his," argued Anita, interjecting and glaring at Dumbledore. "Which includes him learning exactly why he was left at your house, Mrs. Dursley."

Dumbledore swallowed, not liking the tone of voice that Anita used, but knowing that he would have to "own up" on the things that he did for the past five years.

"Harry? Are you all right?" the woman, Anita Hartz or Professor Hartz as his Aunt wanted him to call her, asked.

Dazed, Harry could only murmur in reply, "I'm a wizard?"

Anita glanced at his Aunt, who sat stiffly in an armchair, staring at the wall. Not finding any help there, Anita began to ease Harry into the world she had been introduced into five years earlier. Dumbledore remained silent, wondering when it would be the right time to interject and possibly turn Harry away from him and Hogwarts altogether. There wasn't a moment of doubt in his mind that that would happen.

Harry was intelligent enough to realise he wasn't being told everything, but after Anita finished her explanation of her school, using the brochure as a guide, and explaining the magical world as she could from a non-magical perspective, she turned expectantly to Dumbledore.

Uncomfortable, Dumbledore cleared his throat and handed Harry his Hogwarts letter. "As Ms. Hartz explained to you, Harry, I am Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We would also like to offer you a place at our school, although I suggest you spend your first year at Wyckham."

"Why, sir?" asked Harry, frowning quizzically.

Dumbledore fought from fidgeting in his seat as Anita settled back with an almost smug look on her face.

"Well, you see, Harry – in our world, you are famous," began Dumbledore, trying to stick to the myth created first.

"Why? How?" cried the eleven year old.

This was what Dumbledore wanted to avoid—the truth about his parents. "Well, it began for you on the night of your parents' murder, really…"

"Murder?" interjected Harry, incredulous. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon said they died in a car crash!"

Silence. Dumbledore turned his glare to settle on Petunia, who sneered back at him. "I wasn't going to have it! I wasn't going to have that boy run off to your school and end up getting himself blown up like my sister!"

"'_Blown up_'?" repeated Harry, feeling fury rise in him quickly.

Anita saw the conversation slowly spiral out of control and threw herself into the conversation. "Harry, please sit down. Your parents were a part of Dumbledore's organisation to fight against crime, although they were a secret organisation. The man who killed them wanted them badly on his side but they refused numerous times. Finally, he had enough and went after them to, ah… remove them from the war."

"War?" asked Harry, settling down quietly.

"The Blood War," answered Dumbledore grimly. "It was a war between those who believe that Pureblood wizards and witches are better than Half-Bloods or Muggleborns and other magical, humanoid creatures. The man who started it calls himself Lord Voldemort. The night he killed your parents he tried to kill you—only he failed. He left you with that scar on your forehead as a reminder."

"My scar," murmured Harry, subconsciously raising a hand to trace it.

Dumbledore smiled grimly. "Yes, where everyone else he raised his wand to and killed them, you survived. The only one ever to do so. And that night, when you survived and your parents did not, Lord Voldemort vanished. We've been at peace since."

"And that's why I'm famous."

"Yes," answered Dumbledore.

Harry looked puzzled. "But why don't you want me to go to Hogwarts then?"

Anita raised her eyebrows at Dumbledore when he glanced her way. He sighed. "Because you are famous. There will be children of Voldemort's followers there, trying to gain your approval and friendship. There will be danger and I was informed that Lord Voldemort is not as gone as everyone would like to think he is."

"You think he'll try to come after me?" asked the frightened boy.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Possibly. While you might be safe at Hogwarts, there is something that is being relocated there that I feel would attract his interest… and with you in the school would be, ah—Anita, what's the saying?"

"Two birds with one stone, Dumbledore," answered Anita dryly.

"Yes," nodded Dumbledore, "That he would attempt to seek the item being relocated for his own pleasure and then plan to kill you at the same time."

"Tell him the rest, Dumbledore," ordered Anita sharply, causing Harry to glance at her in surprise and his Aunt Petunia to startle. "Everything, just like you promised."

Feeling trapped and distinctly not liking it, Dumbledore contritely looked at Anita, and then at Harry and Petunia, who were ignoring each other. They were _so_ good at it, that it was a practiced art. He winced, thinking of the files that Anita had on the Dursleys from several years ago. Things would not have changed in the house since.

Dumbledore felt his age as he explained what happened on the night of Halloween, 1981, and of his idea to place Harry at his Aunts' house. He explained the blood wards and alluded to a specific reason why Voldemort would want him dead.

Anita and Petunia were listening intently, the latter having never heard the reasons as to why Harry was left on her doorstep, other than a single warning of what would happen if he _didn't_.

Harry, on the other hand, looked entirely appalled and frightened and so terrified of everything Dumbledore was telling him that as soon as the lounge fell into silence, he turned to Anita and said, "When do we leave? I'd like to attend Wyckham for the entirety of my secondary schooling, please."

* * *

_Hogwarts, Staff room: August 31, 1991_

While waiting for his staff to enter the staff room for their usual pre-season talk, Dumbledore reflected on the last month, especially as he flicked through the enrolment applications and letters.

There were notable names missing from the list: Harry Potter, the Weasley twins Fred and George, the young girl Minerva was fond of, Hermione Granger, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Tracey and Roger Davies, Theodore Nott, Cedric Diggory and Alex Summers.

On the topic of Harry Potter, it was expected. Dumbledore knew as soon as he agreed to Anita's terms about Harry's past and his reasons for placing him with his Aunt, that the boy would never attend Hogwarts. Anita had done her research and while she had moved on from the traumatic loss of her fiancé, it was clear she still harboured ill will towards the magical world.

As his staff slowly began to pile into the staff room, Dumbledore sighed again. How was he going to tell magical Britain that their Boy-Who-Lived was attending a magical school in another country that he helped support?

TBC...

* * *

**A Note on the Revision**: While it's a super, slow-going process, I am revising 'Wyckham' as you can see here, and trying to make a far more realistic story before bringing in the original characters from before and changing the plot around. Perhaps it'll be more coherent now, instead of Harry going after things he knows are fakes?

**On Justin Finch-Fletchley**: When Harry "meets" Justin in _CoS_, Justin informs him that he was down for Eton. ETON. Now, realistically, what parents in their right mind would send their child instead to Hogwarts instead of Eton? Go on the Eton website. It's interesting; private schools usually are. I teach at one and let me tell you, there's a difference between the parents at a public school and a private school. Eton charges £1500 for applying - most, if not all, private schools do this to cover admin fees. Eton also prefers taking in pupils at the age of 13, not 11. They have to be EXCEPTIONAL to get in at 11. The current 2010-2011 fees, while more than what Eton would be in 1991, are covering all three half terms, miscellaneous fees (books, field trips, musical instrument rentals, etc) total: £64,707 per year. Maximum, as I did each club and lesson available. Now, if Justin's parents could afford this, why couldn't they afford him a private magical tutor? They could clearly afford it.

Here's another for you: "medical practitioners" as of 2010 receive an annual wage of approx. £60,000/per annum. Hermione's parents are dentists. And after the shit my boyfriend went through for waiting three weeks to get his dentist to see him, with only 3 in his town, I think there are not too many dentists in the UK (Wales, at least). BOTH Hermione's parents are dentists. That's £120,000 per year. Again, other than social acceptance (which, had Harry not been at Hogwarts), Hermione would have no reason to attend Hogwarts. Her parents could also afford private magical tutors. She and Justin are essentially the Slytherin equivalents in the non-magical world of the British upper class. Or, fairly well-to-do, as I'm still bitter knowing an entry-level teacher under the GTCW in Wales is barely £21,000 after taxes. Who can live on that? Clearly that's what made me go private upon returning to Canada.

My point, after this rant, while impractical perhaps to think of (as Rowling clearly dictated the events in HP to lead Harry into fighting Voldemort at the end as a Jesus figure), are what would be going through my mind were I a parent. Hell, even not being a parent I'd be thinking this. Simply put, if Hogwarts is _the_ magical school... what Muggleborn's parents would send them there? Where's their English courses, to learn how to write an essay (well, some still can't do this, I cringe at the essays I marked at my placement schools)? Where's their algebra and calculus? Social Studies? Media arts? Hell - North Americans will note, where's Civics and Law? I would never consider sending a child to Hogwarts. And maybe that's my problem, when I wrote the first "Wyckham." While Hogwarts is great for the magical people in the HP series, realistically speaking from my end of things, I wouldn't even think of it as an acceptable school. End of. Full stop.

So I wrote Wyckham. Effed it up seriously. Revised. Still effed it up. Went to Wales to receive my teacher training, and told my boyfriend that I didn't care if I moved to the country and even though I hated it, any kids we'd have were being sent to an American boarding school in Switzerland. Took my bitter thoughts (sorry, British nationals. I really do not like your educational system. Strange, I blame it on my last placement school and the staff there - very bad experience.), got lucky and landed a job at a private school here in my hometown in Canada. And wow - it's different. I was raised in the public; taught at public; am now in private. It's a world of a difference. I've got more experience under me in teaching and hopefully - hopefully, I can put it all into perspective and use it to write a** MUCH** better 'Wyckham' alternative.

Wish me luck. I hope you'll stick around. :)

- Kneazle (Nov 14 2010)


	2. Chapter 01

Footsteps on a Different Path

(Formerly, "Wyckham Academy")

* * *

_Change has a considerable psychological impact on the human mind. To the fearful, it is threatening because it means that things may get worse. To the hopeful, it is encouraging because things may get better. To the confident, it is inspiring because the challenge exists to make things better._

King Whitney Jr.

* * *

_Chapter One_

_Surrey, England: July, 1991_

Dumbledore spent the most of his explanation trying to fight against the rising heat on his cheeks and the rising indignation of having to go through explaining his motives and decisions to an eleven-year-old boy who wasn't around for most of them.

When the explanations fell silent and Harry declared his intention to attend Wyckham, Dumbledore didn't feel any reason to remain in the household any longer. Although feeling sick, he had accomplished what he set out to do several years previous: have Anita start another school of magic and have Harry attend to give him a solid foundation in the magical world before he would attend Hogwarts. He just hadn't anticipated Anita's requirement of him telling Harry (almost) everything.

Since it was written into their contract and sealed with an Unbreakable Vow, Dumbledore was trapped. Anita, however, was also trapped into the contract requiring her to participate with Hogwarts in Hogwartian events and "team building" events with the other two large European schools, Beauxbatons and Drumstrang. Dumbledore looked forward to viewing Harry's progress in those few and far in between school socials and events that would be occurring more frequently.

The elderly wizard stood, catching the other's attention as he did so. "I feel that there is nothing left for me to say, now that Harry has chosen Wyckham Academy. I shall return to Hogwarts now." He turned to Petunia, nodding politely at her and then Anita, before smiling gently at Harry. "I wish you all the best at Wyckham, Harry. I will see you sometime later this school year, when Wyckham and Hogwarts meet."

Anita and Harry both politely returned the nods while Petunia sat stiffly. Dumbledore did not extend the courtesy of leaving her house and walking to the park to disapparate; he did so from the room with a loud _pop_, startling her into squeaking.

The room was silent for a few moments before Anita cleared her throat. "I think now would be a good idea to go over some information about Wyckham, as well as term dates and the contract," began Anita, reaching down at her feet for her briefcase.

She set it on her lap and opened it. She removed a copy of a standard contract for attendance at the school and other various fees and requirements of parents or guardians and handed the entire package to Petunia. Harry flipped through the brochure she handed him earlier in the conversation.

"Mrs. Dursley, the first thing you should be aware of is that Harry's fees are already covered for his duration of his schooling. His parents set up a tuition fund for his schooling before their death and the money was set aside for that particular use," said Anita, as Petunia negligently flipped through the contract. "However, as Harry's magical guardian is currently… unreachable, we require your signature on our school forms."

Petunia nodded sourly, her face pinched and pale as she took the offered pen Anita handed her.

"As for Wyckham itself, we run on what you can call separate pedagogical methods: the first is that of Reggio Emilia and then the IB program. While Reggio was developed for the foundations years, you can bring in natural elements to the classroom at the secondary level. The IB program, however, is a structured curriculum that leads into the diploma program at the end of the schooling," lectured Anita, as she pointed out the IB program area on the brochure. "It's fairly strict and rigid when you run it side-by-side with the British National Magical Curriculum, but it's entirely doable as we have sixteen graduates who can attest to it."

"Your term dates here state that there is an early drop off in the summer," interrupted Petunia sharply, as her eye leapt down the term date page, before back at the top. "It's three weeks away but I'd prefer if the boy went sooner."

Anita stilled, looking at Petunia queerly before nodding slowly. "That's true; we do have early summer drop-offs for international students whose parents require them to be back at work earlier than the school year begins, particularly children of diplomats and politicians. However, we're very firm on our August 14th date, Mrs. Dursley."

Anita glanced at her briefcase, locating a thick folder that she had packed at the bottom and hoped she would not have to use.

"It would suit Vernon and I better if he left sooner," the woman argued back. Harry blinked at his aunt, in surprise and with emotion, before quickly masking it and going back to the brochure.

Anita clamped down on the anger rising in her and made a decision. "Of course, Mrs. Dursley. I understand completely." Turning to Harry, Anita gently asked, "Harry? Would you mind going to your room and packing a suitcase? You can join me today."

Surprised, the ebony-haired boy looked up and nodded, shooting Anita a quick smile as he darted out of the sitting room and shutting the door behind him.

Anita's eyes cut to Dudley, who did not move from his spot in front of the TV. She immediately discarded him as a threat when she turned to Petunia, a stony expression on her face as she handed the woman the thick folder from her briefcase.

"What's this? More forms?" asked the horse-faced woman.

"In a matter of speaking," replied Anita coolly. "It's a collection of photographs, medical reports, school reports and witness reports from 1986 onward, documenting your behaviour towards your nephew."

Wide-eyed, Petunia's face lost the little colour it had left. "I beg your pardon?" she whispered.

"Of course," continued Anita, unaware that her voice began to steadily climb as the accusations tumbled from her lips. "Allow me to explain clearly: Petunia, in your hands is a folder documenting every slap, every bruise, every broken bone that Harry received while in your _loving_ care. In addition, _in addition_," snarled Anita as Petunia opened her mouth to argue back, "There are multiple reports of school marks and medical practitioners' opinions of suspect abuse."

Petunia fell silent.

"I have more than enough evidence Mrs. Dursley, to take you to court and have Harry removed from your home forever."

From the hallway, Harry stood shock-still, listening to the anger in Anita Hartz's voice as she accused his aunt of neglect and emotional abuse. Harry supposed she thought his bedroom was upstairs, where he would be away of the argument taking place in the living room, but she had no way of knowing he slept in the cupboard under the stairs.

It was the first time since Harry could remember that someone was telling his aunt off for her behaviour of _him_. Harry never had anyone in his corner, cheering him on or protecting him. It was quite novel.

As the raised voices began to die down, Harry jumped and turned back to his cupboard, rummaging through his meagre belongings and shoved them in the tiny suitcase he was permitted to use when staying overnight at Mrs. Figg's. His personal items barely took up half the suitcase, Harry was sad to note.

He was sitting on the bottom steps of the stairs when the sitting room door abruptly opened. He rose to his feet quickly, nearly tripping over his untied shoelaces and too-large trainers.

Anita stood in the door, her suit jacket back on and briefcase in her hand. She had a tired look on her face, but she smiled at him and offered her hand. "Are you ready to go, Harry? Do you have _everything_ you need?"

Harry nodded, not missing her stress on 'everything.' He was sure he wasn't coming back to Privet Drive.

Anita turned back into the sitting room, but did not enter; instead, she spoke sharply to Petunia. "Remember, Petunia – you signed everything. There's no turning back now and if you do, I'll ensure the contents of that folder go public. I'm sure your neighbours would _love_ that."

Harry followed Anita mutely as she led him from the house, not saying a word as she fumed. Used to angry behaviour, Harry remained silent, following the woman as she walked down Privet Drive and off Magnolia Crescent to Henderson Lane, where a rental Vauxhall was parked.

"Let me get the boot for you, Harry," suggested Anita, smiling as she took his suitcase. "You go and sit in the car while we get back to London. I'll explain what's happening along the way, shall we?"

Harry nodded, climbing into the back seat of the car while Anita closed the boot and slid into the driver's side. She started the car and within moments, they were leaving Little Whinging behind. Harry didn't feel particularly sad about that.

"Right," said Anita, more to herself as she took a deep breath. "Right. So, here's the plan: your Aunt has released custody of you by emancipation, which technically means you are a ward of the school, namely, me as Headmistress. It makes things a little complicated, as Switzerland has only recently applied to become part of the European Union. We need to fast track a temporary Swiss residency visa for you."

"Can it be done?" asked Harry, worried he would have to return to Privet Drive.

"Yeah, I've got some friends in the right Swiss departments, as well as in Neuchâtel. Strange thing about Switzerland is that the cantons tend to govern themselves," replied Anita with a quirk of her lips in the rear-view mirror. "So we don't have to worry."

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, don't get too comfortable, Harry. I'm in London this week to deliver a few talks and lectures to educators and prospective parents. I won't be leaving for Basel until Friday, so you're going to be stuck with me!" Anita grinned and Harry grinned back. That didn't sound too bad. "We'll go to Gringott's in Diagon Alley and get you some spending money and have the goblins there issue a bank draft and have some funds deposited in a branch of CreditSuisse in Neuchâtel."

Wait. What?

Harry's head swam with unfamiliar terms, and spoke up quietly, the first since Dumbledore's revelations. "I'm sorry, Ms. Hartz… but what is Gringott's? And run by _goblins_?"

Anita chuckled. "Oh, just wait and see Harry. It's going to get a heck of a lot stranger!"

* * *

Anita declared that they would visit Diagon Alley the next day, after Harry had a good night's sleep. They entered her hotel, upgrading her room to an attached suite so that Harry had a room to himself. After putting Harry's suitcase on the small dresser, Anita offered to get some dinner and explain more about Wyckham to Harry.

They order room service and over pizza and soda, Anita detailed her school.

"Wyckham Academy was first a fifteenth-century monastery before it was converted into a hotel at the turn of the century," Anita began, talking around a bite of her pizza. "Because of the conversion, it was fairly easy to turn back into a school. The rooms are a little on the smallish side, but we use those predominantly for the Sixth Formers, who require the peace and quiet of individual rooms."

"What will I be getting?" asked Harry, slowly savouring his pizza. It was the first time he ever ate it.

Anita swallowed before answering. "You'll have one of the larger bedrooms in the Gutzwiller wing." She stood up and went to her briefcase, located on the spare bed in the room and rummaged through it before pulling out a different brochure than what Harry saw earlier.

Sitting back down, she opened it and pushed it across the small coffee table to Harry, using a pinkie-finger with a pizza-occupied hand to point the wing out.

Harry was looking at the schematics and floor plan of the monastery-turned-hotel-turned-school eagerly. The entire place had a higgledy-piggledy feel to it; split-levels and odd corridors but there was still logic to the building, in a minimalist way.

"This is the Gutzwiller wing," stated Anita, pointing to the second floor off to the far right of the building. "Right below it is several classrooms. The Gutzwiller wing also overlooks the front ground with views to Lake Neuchâtel."

Her finger moved along to the third floor above where Harry's room would be located. "Each wing is like a family. Not like Hogwarts' Houses, though; the wings host a teacher on each floor in case of emergencies, and two fifth-year prefects. The second floor will always consist of first through fourth year students, or year 7 through 11.

"There are two floors of bedrooms in each wing, consisting of forty bedrooms in total. These two floors, in the Gutzwiller, Zwahlen and Rohner wings, are all doubles where the initial students live. That bedroom is yours for the first four years of your schooling at Wyckham. You can leave things behind as well over the summer.

"Afterwards, when you move into your fifth, sixth and seventh years magical—or Sixth Form—you move into Isele. Not only are you secluded from the younger students by moving into the wing on the far left of the school," here, Anita's finger move from the right-side of the brochure's double-spread to the far left, pointing out a smaller wing with more turrets and spirals, "You are also given your own room. This part of the monastery was where the monks used to live. Although the rooms are fairly small and minimalist, they were the most converted during renovations. You have your bed, side table, desk and drawers, as well as a window overlooking the back of the property, which are woodlands. You'll have more peace and quiet in the upper years to complete schoolwork.

"Those rooms, by the way," finished Anita, "begin on the first floor and work up to five, with only fifteen on each level. So, if you can do your math quickly, we only have up to 315 students."

"That's not many," commented Harry idly.

"No, it's not," replied Anita. "We're picky about who we let into the school and there are strict codes of behaviour and academic standings that we expect all our students to maintain at all times. It's a rigorous school, but it can also be incredibly rewarding with everything so close for us. Being in Switzerland means we're central to everywhere that's worth seeing: Rome and Milan in Italy; Paris in France; the Black Forest in Germany; Zurich and St. Moritz…"

Harry had never heard of most of those places before; some were said in reverent passing by Petunia, with a whimsical tone indicating that she'd never go and see them herself.

"What are the classes like?" asked Harry, reaching for a second slice after he saw Anita start on hers.

"Well, you take what we call the Foundation courses: English, maths, science; and in your Core Magic classes: Transfiguration, charms, potions, Defence against the Dark Arts. There are additional courses that combined with magical and non-magical elements are called the "fusion" classes: history, physical education and technology. You have a single non-magical class that is not mixed with magic in any way: French."

Harry scrunched up his nose. "French?"

Anita laughed, reaching for her Coke. "Yes, French, Harry. Neuchâtel is located in the French region of Switzerland. Nearly 90% of the population speaks French there. We also border France. Switzerland is unique in that it has four national languages: French, Italian, German, and Rumantsch. And trust me when I say you'll pick it up quickly, as well as _Suisse-Deutsch_, which still drives the German in me batty when I listen to it."

Harry looked at the brochure again, his eyes wandering from the right wing to the left, the fancy script overlaid stating each wing's name; below were the classrooms that were listed by single-digit room number. Near Isele, classrooms took up the first and second floor. A courtyard in the middle of the monastery separated the library, conservatory and music hall, but these were still attached to the main building through a lounge room for the students to relax in, called the Dürrenmatt room, and the cafeteria.

When Harry looked up from the floor plan, he saw Anita's fond, if not sympathetic, expression on her face. "It'll get easier with time, Harry," she said gently. "But why don't we call it a night? I have a feeling you're going to need it by the time we get finished with this week."

* * *

The following days after Harry left Privet Drive for good meshed together in a sensory explosion of colour, scent, and unfamiliar terms and places as Anita hustled him from the hotel in London to Diagon Alley where Harry understood just how famous he truly was: his parents' and his name in the history books; the toy dolls and merchandise found in some knickknack stores; the endorsements he certainly didn't remember agreeing to...

At first, Harry couldn't understand why Anita required him to be up and ready to leave the hotel by six in the morning; but upon entering Diagon Alley and after speaking to the goblins at Gringott's about his finances (and his trust vault), Anita led Harry to Flourish and Blott's. Anita asked Harry to purchase all the modern history texts he could find, as long as they referenced the Potters, even briefly; she believed he had to know what he was getting into, being famous. Also, Anita helped him pick out his Core books and some background basics for him to brush up on magical theory before practical application began.

Harry stared in horror at the amount of books as the clerk at Flourish removed them from the enlarged shopping bag, counting them as the books were removed. The total was staggering: over fifty books in a single go.

When Harry glanced at Anita's face, expecting her to be angry, he saw only good cheer. With the books bought, they were off to the apothecary to buy a potions kit; from there, Ollivander's.

Harry was very excited about his wand. He wasn't sure what to make of Ollivander though. The man was scary: he was quiet and always whispering, but quite convinced that the perfect wand was out there for each child that came to his store.

When Harry stepped up, Ollivander remarked on his parents' wands, and began to thrust similar cores and woods at him. So far, Harry blew up a vase, shattered the front display window, blew up six wand boxes, snapped a wand in two by touching it, and had two vacant chairs shoot to the ceiling and shatter into billions of pieces.

Finally, Ollivander brought a dusty box from the very back of his shop; he was muttering, "curious, very curious," over and over as Harry tried it. A glow surrounded his body: it was white while his wand emitted green, blue, and red sparks that took the shape of snitches and a bear-like dog.

"It is curious, Mr. Potter," remarked Ollivander on prompting of Harry, "that this wand's core animal gave one other. And that wand where the core resides, I'm sorry to say, is in the wand that gave you that scar on your forehead."

Harry frowned, ignoring the fluttering in his chest. "Voldemort's wand."

Ollivander shushed him. "Wizards do not like hearing You-Know-Who's name. They fear it."

Harry took the admonishment with grace and nodded. "How much?" he asked, indicating his wand.

"Your wand will cost seven Galleons."

After, the two were off to magical menagerie, where Anita promised Harry a birthday gift from her and as a gift of freedom from his relatives.

"What did you say to them?" asked Harry quietly as the two moved slowly through the crowded pet store. Harry was trailing his fingers lightly over some of the empty bird cages, heading towards the back of the store where the owls were located.

Anita winced. "I had hoped you wouldn't ask and just take it as you weren't ever returning."

"If it has to do with me, I'd really like to know," replied Harry just as quietly.

"You do have that right."

Anita was silent for a while as Harry stopped by a Canadian snowy owl. Its wings were flecked with black spots, and two beady and intelligent yellow eyes settled on him. A rush of emotion that Harry couldn't identify bubbled from the pit of his stomach to his chest, warming him and tingling his fingers and toes.

"Hello," he said to the owl, moving closer to her as Anita watched warily. "You've been waiting for me."

Anita waved over a clerk, who rang up the owl's total and Anita splurged for Harry by getting him owl treats as well as a perch.

When Harry seemed like he was going to ask about his relatives again, Anita ordered, "Later. At the hotel and I'll tell you then. But not now."

Mollified, Harry agreed and they continued some more magical shopping in Diagon Alley, finishing just as the lunch crowd began pouring into the street. They left the Leaky Cauldron before the pub filled up and anyone recognised Harry's scar.

Lunch was room service again and Anita requested that Harry remain in his room that afternoon as she had to finalise plans for a Meet and Greet in the hotel conference room the next day. However, she did offer to sit down with him over lunch and explain.

"How did you know your relatives and I had an argument?" began Anita, cautiously.

Harry looked away from Anita as he reached for his fork. "I was standing outside the living room door," he mumbled.

Anita looked perplexed. "But why weren't you getting your things from your room? I know it didn't take you long but we weren't that loud that you would have heard us from upstairs."

"My room was right outside the door, in the hallway," mumbled Harry again, not wanting to answer and regretting bringing the conversation up.

"WHAT?"

Harry jumped in surprise and winced at Anita's loud shout. He clamped his mouth shut and did his best to shrink into himself.

"Harry," said Anita, breathing heavily. "Can you please tell me where your room was?"

Harry paused. "The cupboard under the stairs."

He watched Anita for the initial blow up, the threats and accusations that he was lying, that he was an ungrateful freak—but they never came. Instead, Anita viewed him with a pained expression, finally closing her eyes for several moments.

She took a deep breath, then another, and a third before opening her eyes. "You will never be returning to those people ever again, Harry Potter. I swear it on my life."

Somehow, Harry didn't doubt her. But they also didn't discuss the argument he overheard at Privet Drive, and Harry wouldn't bring it up again for several years.

* * *

_Switzerland: August, 1991_

Harry learnt early on that Anita was a Dave Matthews Band fan. She had several copies of his cassettes in her car, which she had left at Basel airport, and Harry was subjected to a two-hour immersion before they reached Neuchâtel.

However, it was well worth it as the car turned off the A5 and onto Rte du Provins, driving through St. Blaise, before turning onto Ch. de la Châtelaine. After a few moments on the two-directional road, Anita turned off between two large stone posts, both with the same plaque etched into the stone.

_Wyckham Academy & Estate_.

The estate and school was gated with a large, detailed wrought-iron gate, with a coat of arms decorating the middle clamp. The gate also had a modern intercom and pass code, which Anita punched in before the gate slowly eased open.

The road was paved and straight, leading directly up to the monastery conversion. From the outside, the large greyish stonework building looked intimidating. The front was large and square, with two spires on either side as decorative eye pieces. The window indicated it was at least five storeys, the upper spires both with narrow slit windows and stone and iron-mixed walkways at the top.

Yet, only one side of the building was visible, which Anita pointed out. "That's the Gutzwiller wing. See how it faces the front? Right behind us is the Lake. Gutzwiller is only one-half of the wing, though, which turns into Rohner, making it an elongated L-shape.

"Zwahlen is directly behind the main entrance, turning the building into an upside-down and flipped F-shape. Zwahlen is the cross-bar in the shape, if you're wondering. The top part of the F, if you pardon the expression, is Isele, which also turns into a large octagonal turret."

"And the library and cafeteria?" asked Harry as the car slowly came to a crawl in front of the building.

"They attach to Isele and Zwahlen and Gutzwiller and Rohner in a long line and hall, creating two courtyards. It turns the F-shaped residencies into a blocked-in H-shape," answered Anita, pulling into a parking space located off to an inconspicuous side of the estate, hidden by trees and separated by a low, stonework wall.

The monastery had an inter-linking stonemason wall that ran through the building and off to the side, near the Isele wing, which disappeared into woodland. The other wall ran from the Gutzwiller wing, alongside the paved road and then had a break where Harry spied stone steps, leading down to a tiered garden.

While Anita retrieved Harry's new school trunk and her suitcase and briefcase from the boot, Harry took a moment to take a deep breath.

_He was in Switzerland_.

He had a passport. He was in another country. He was no longer at Privet Drive, nor did he have to go back. He was going to start his secondary education at a prestigious international and magical boarding school—one where he did not know anyone and no one really knew him, despite the few things he read about 'the Boy Who Lived.'

Harry took another deep breath and felt Anita place a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you ready?" she asked.

He nodded, picking up the trunk of his suitcase and rolling it towards the door.

The entrance to Wyckham Academy was through a large wooden door, roughened by time and weather. Anita opened it easily and silently though, making Harry wonder if magic was involved.

The entrance hall was less of a hall and more of an inner gateway, where another double-door separated the main building from the entrance. The entrance, however, was brilliantly lit-up from hanging chandeliers. There were several comfortable-looking couches up against the wall, underneath two windows looking out on the grounds. Side tables with Tiffany lamps created a welcoming glow; sets of two armchairs located around two small round tables invited soft conversation and implied privacy.

Off to one side of the long, rectangular room was a granite top desk, which stone etched into the wall of the building. A large vase of flowers and bright lights illuminated the area.

A lone man stood there, looking down at something beneath the countertop.

"_Wie geht's_, Fritz?" asked Anita as she ushered Harry to the man, who looked up at the sound of Anita's voice.

The man was in his twenties, still slightly spotty but very nicely dressed in a jacket and purple tie. His dark brown hair and tanned face only highlighted his white teeth as he smiled at Anita.

"_Schöne, Frau Hartz_," he replied in German, before glancing at Harry.

"Harry, meet Fritz Hoffenberg," said Anita, switching back into English. "Fritz, this is Harry Potter." A not-so-casual glance and intense look at Fritz had the young man nod perceptively at the unspoken conversation.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter," greeted Fritz and flawless English, with only a slight trace of a Germanic accent. "Are you coming to the school early for our early summer drop off option?"

Harry glanced at Anita for confirmation, who nodded at him.

Taking the opportunity she was extending for him to use, Harry stepped up to the counter (barely able to look over it, to his displeasure as it was only at chest-height on Anita and Fritz), and replied. "Yes, Mr. Hoffenberg."

"Fritz, please," replied the man, smiling widely again as he moved something away and off to the side. He then glanced down and began typing into what Harry assumed was a computer.

Strange. He thought the school would run on more magic, but as he glanced around at the lights, he noticed that it was all on electricity.

"I thought you were a magical school?" he blurted out, wondering if he'd been duped.

Anita laughed. "We are, Harry. I just happened to have hired several Muggleborns from the Americas who happened to have an interest in exploring technology and magical combinations. They found a way for electronics to run on a magical input or signal, depending on the amount of electricity emitted. The entire school runs on magically-charged lights and converts electronic energy into a magical equivalent which won't harm or overcharge, or _surge_ if you want the correct term, when there is an abundance of magic being conducted."

"Oh." Harry felt stupid.

"It's a surprise for everyone who comes to Wyckham Academy, Mr. Potter," commiserated Fritz as he looked up from his typing. "Everyone comments on it."

Harry didn't feel so bad.

"Ah, here we are. Potter, Harry. Entering his first year with us, with his tuition for this year paid in full," said Fritz, tapping the screen. He glanced at Harry before looking at Anita. "I also received your phone message from a few nights ago, so everything is ready for Mr. Potter."

"Great," answered Anita, relief visible on her face. She hadn't been sure Fritz would be in early enough in the summer to help air out a room and assign one for Harry.

Fritz disappeared from behind the counter off to the side, where Harry expected was an office of some sort. He returned a moment later, a manila envelope in his hand that had a strange bulge in it.

"Since we had some time to prepare," began Fritz, "We were able to get everything ready for Mr. Potter, including the usual entrance package that the other students will receive in September when they arrive."

"Fabulous, Fritz!" Anita took the package and handed it to Harry, who clutched on it. "You might want to open it up, Harry. Your room key is in there and we'll know where you're going to be sleeping."

Nodding, Harry slipped open the top flap of the envelope and puckered it to find the room key. The bulge he spotted earlier was the key in a separate envelope of its own, which he fished out with a skinny hand and arm.

Once the smaller envelope was out, he handed the larger envelope back to Anita and opened the flap on the smaller. A Yale key on a ring, fabricated to look like an old iron skeleton key that was barely the size of largest finger, slid out.

Across the top of the key, on the bow in its circular design, was the imprint: _Gutzwiller, 37_.

"Great," said Anita as Harry showed her the key's inscription. "Just through the doors and up the stairs, and then to the right. Fritz, would you mind helping us with Harry's trunk?"

"_Kein problem_," answered Fritz happily, as he once against disappeared from behind the counter, only to reappear through a side-door Harry had not noticed before.

The man had a wand in his hand. He tapped Harry's trunk, causing the luggage to rise above the floor and bob gently as it floated. He then followed behind Anita and Harry as the Headmistress turned to the second wooden door stood.

Anita opened the doors easily, again, entering a large, wooden floored and square-shaped hall. There were hallways extending in three different directions—one directly in front of Harry, and the other two on either side. The one on the right, he saw, did extend much further than the one on the left, though.

The middle of the square led to a wooden floored hallway, which extended for some distance before ending with three floor-to-ceiling windows, one with stained glass in it.

"That's Zwahlen," said Anita, gesturing with a hand down the hallway. "The first floor is where your Core classes will take place. Remember? Transfiguration, charms…"

The walls were stone, with niches displaying artwork and statues lining the stairs. Two stone staircases, on either side of the square, both turned at the top at a 90-degree angle, but in opposite directions.

Anita trailed off, moving towards the right staircase. "Taking this stair will lead you to Gutzwiller. If you wanted to get to the Foundation classes, like English or maths, you just keep walking down that hallway."

"And the one on the left?" asked Harry, following her up the stairs.

"It leads to Isele. Remember how I said that it turns into a large turret? The hall has to make a sharp turn after it extends just a bit. There aren't any classes but it's a great place for displays."

The second floor of the school, in the Gutzwiller wing, was well-lit by more strings of chandeliers extending along the ceiling (clearly a modern addition). Comfy chairs and tables were placed here or there along the way, as Anita counted the rooms.

"The first room with a name on it will be the teacher who resides in the wing for emergencies," said Anita, pointing at the door. "For you, Mr. Blake will be your emergency contact on the floor. The two prefects will be at either end of the hall, here"—Anita indicated to the room across from Blake's, and then pointed down the hall where a large window was letting natural light in. "And then just at the corner where the hall turns left and into Rohner."

The room doors were a soft brown, lacquered to shine and reflect the lights. The numbers on the doors were golden and easily displayed. Anita stopped in front of 37, near the end of the hall by the second prefect's room and Rohner.

"It's much quieter down here by a corner room," began Anita, motioning for Harry to insert the key. "But you'll also get traffic noise in the morning and afternoon with the Rohner residents."

Harry shrugged, inserting the key and turning. There was a loud click, and the door swung open easily.

The room was somewhat dark, with only afternoon light coming in from the window across from the door, but Anita located the light switch and the room was flooded.

Harry stepped in gingerly, looking at the small hallway in the room, still expecting everything to be a dream. Reality was slowly creeping in, though, as Harry picked the bed on the left, placing his trunk on the floor beside the bed, before turning to take in the room that he would be living in for the next four years.

As Anita had explained, there were two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, each with their own side table, lamp and alarm clock. Two matching sets of three-shelved drawers stood side by side underneath the large window.

Opposite of the beds were work desks and comfortable office swivel chairs. There was some space between the end of the desk and hallway, so there were four layers of built-in floating shelves for books and knickknacks.

Matching built-in wardrobes with sliding doors were side by side on one wall of the small hallway entering the room. Harry opened his to find a shoe rack and several empty hangers. A generic, white duvet and two pillows were on the shelf above the hangers.

The other side of the wall opened to a small bathroom he and his roommate were to share. It consisted of a toilet, matching porcelain sink, and a fairly generously-sized walk-in shower with clear shower curtain. There were two sets of shelving in the shower for toiletries.

"If you open your window, Hedwig will be able to find you when she's in the area," offered Anita, walking over to the windows. "Swiss windows are similar to British ones, but these also open in and tilt from the bottom. Hedwig will have no problem getting in."

"Thank you," said Harry, as Fritz placed the desk perch Anita splurged on for Harry on the drawer.

Anita nodded, standing with her hands on her hips in the middle of the room, looking around and noticing how bare it was. "I think sometime this week we'll go into Neuchâtel and make sure you have a fitting for your uniform soon, and get some things to decorate this place with."

Harry flushed, knowing that her comments were an observation and less of a rebuke on his lack of personal items.

"You'll also need to fill in a questionnaire for roommate matching, but that won't be for a few weeks," continued Anita, as Fritz slowly eased out of the room and down the hallway. "We'll let you get settled for a bit. I'll probably have dinner around seven, so if you'd like to join me, you only need to ask for Kriessel."

"Kriessel?" asked Harry, confused. A moment later, a loud _pop_ had him scrambling backwards and into the bed.

A small, green creature with floppy ears and a strange dark blue pillowcase with embroidered _WA_ stood at barely three feet and in the middle of the room.

"_Frau_ called?" asked the creature, in a strangely accented mishmash of what sounded like German and English.

"Yes, thanks, Kriessel. This is Harry Potter," Anita said, introducing the creature to Harry. "Harry, this is Kriessel, a house elf. House elves are magical creatures that work for institutions and wealthy, established families. They enjoy cooking and cleaning and other household duties, which boosts their magical power, particularly if they are involved in a good partnership between owner and elf."

Harry nodded, slowly, looking at Kriessel strangely before extending a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, Kriessel."

The house elf looked at Harry strangely, eyeing his extended hand before looking up at Anita in confusion.

Anita fought back a smile and said, "Harry would like you to shake his hand, Kriessel. It's what humans do when they're introduced to each other for the first time."

"Kriessel is elf, _Frau_! Not human!" retorted the elf, but after a moment, reached up and shook Harry's hand, dropping it just as quickly. "_Kleiner _Herr Harry will call for Kriessel, _ja_?"

"Umm…" began Harry, confused by the elf's mix of English and German. "Yes?"

"_Gut_," declared Kriessel, disappearing again with a _pop_.

Anita looked incredibly amused and did her best to wipe it from her face as Harry turned his confused face towards her. "You'll get used to Kriessel's 'Germlish,' Harry. You'll probably learn more German and Italian from the elves than you would from a class, anyway."

"Elves? How many are there?" asked Harry, sitting down on his bed, running his fingers absently over the navy sheets.

"About a hundred. They run the school, really. Right from the kitchens to cleaning the rooms and classrooms," answered Anita, smiling. "Kriessel's harmless, though. He'll treat you right, if not mother you a bit. They won't go through your things though, unless you give them permission. And they only clean what is in the laundry basket in your wardrobe."

Harry let out a sigh of relief, thinking of strange creatures rummaging through his clothes at night.

"I'll let you get settled in, Harry. I'll see you in a bit." Anita waved her fingers a little in goodbye and left the room, leaving the door open and the choice for Harry to close it for privacy.

Considering he was the only one in the school so far, excluding Anita and Fritz that he knew of, Harry didn't feel the need and left it open as he turned to his trunk, ready to remove his newly purchased items.

His yearly non-magical clothing which he bought as a treat were neatly placed in the drawers, including underwear, socks, and sweaters. Harry's shiny new dress shoes, winter boots, and uniform shoes were placed on the shoe rack and his trainers were tossed in the wardrobe at the bottom, carelessly.

Books were separated into subject, then author as took up a fair two of the five shelves. Deciding to get some reading in, Harry chose his _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ text and settled on his bed, enjoying the feel of a comfortable bed—an _actual_ bed—and two fluffy pillows to lean back on.

He fell asleep halfway through the first chapter.

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning, with bright sunlight filtering into his room. Having fallen asleep with his glasses on and without changing his clothes, Harry felt rather groggy but was quick to notice the snowy owl sleeping on her perch.

A smile touched Harry's lips; Hedwig managed to find him easily enough. A quick glance at his clock said it was barely 7 in the morning.

Sighing, Harry reached for his toiletries bag, which he left in his trunk the night before, and stumbled into the bathroom, located on his side of the room.

After finishing a quick shower and brushing his teeth, Harry was ready for food.

"Kriessel?" asked Harry, cautiously, into the empty room as his stomach rumbled.

Kriessel popped into the room, not startling Harry this time. The house elf looked up at the young wizard and asked, "Was can Kriessel do for _kleiner_ Herr Harry?"

"Could you please show me where I can get some food?" asked Harry, putting on his trainers. "I'd really like eat some breakfast."

"Of course, Herr Harry," agreed Kriessel, walking out of the bedroom and leading Harry back down the main stairs out of the Gutzwiller wing and through Zwahlen. At the end of the hallway, it branched off into a T-shape; Kriessel led Harry to the left, which quickly opened up into a larger hallway that was lit with natural morning light. Two sets of French doors, separated by a wall, were fully open, leading into a conservatory-styled restaurant.

"This _das _restaurant," said Kriessel. "_Die Küche_ is there. We's have buffet for breakfast."

Kriessel disappeared, leaving Harry to look around the brightly lit and empty restaurant. The windows in the room were floor-to-ceiling and occupied two entire walls; at waist height, there were boxes attached to the windows filled with greenery.

Tables with double, four, and ten occupancy were scattered around the room. On the other side of the room was an open window, which looked into the kitchen. In front of the window was a white-linen lined table, with empty seats. Harry thought it would be for the teachers.

Spying the buffet table, Harry made a beeline for it. Thirty seconds later, Harry was enjoying his first breakfast of Wyckham Academy and enjoying every bloody minute of it.

Twenty minutes after he received his breakfast, Anita walked in with another man, greeting Harry warmly.

"Morning, Harry!" she said, sitting down next to him at his four-person table. "How'd you sleep? You were right out of it when I asked Kriessel to check in on your when you didn't come down for dinner."

"Well, thank you," swallowed Harry, finishing the last bite of his toast. He glanced at the man who sat across from him at the table.

Anita smiled. "This is Nicolas Flamel, Harry. He's our potions and alchemy professor. Nicolas, meet Harry Potter."

"_Bonjour_, Mr. Potter," greeted Flamel in a soft voice. He was old, with white hair and dark eyes. He had tanned skin, like Fritz's, a thick French accent and he wore traditional wizards' robes.

"Likewise," agreed Harry politely, shaking the man's offered hand over the table. "Excuse me, but your name seems familiar…?"

Flamel grinned. "_Oui_. I am Nicolas Flamel, the creator of the Philosopher's Stone. There are many stories to my creation and myths about me."

Harry nodded, remembering a few.

"Have you seen much of the school, Harry?" asked Flamel.

Harry shook his head.

"Then we'll have to take you on a tour!" the elderly wizard exclaimed happily, indicating for Harry to finish his breakfast. "There is much to see."

And there was; Harry was shown the classrooms and told to make note where his would be held; he wandered up and down the various stairs and side passages and hallways that led to back entrances to rooms or had you arriving at a completely different part of the school; the library was a gorgeous piece of architecture and design, boasting hundreds of thousands of books in fiction, non-fiction, and magical theory; the auditorium and indoor gym, part of the renovation, were done tastefully to keep in with appearances of the historic background of the school.

Outside, Harry walked with Flamel and Anita, noting the pagoda, the gardens and fountain, as well as the small hedge maze. The view, though, was breathtaking: the school was situated on a mountain, overlooking Neuchâtel Lake.

"I've never seen what Hogwarts is like," began Harry softly, so that Anita and Flamel had to strain to hear him, "But Wyckham is just… beautiful. I can't wait for school to start."

"You might be the only kid in history to say that, Harry," grinned Anita.

Harry grinned back.

* * *

_Neuchâtel, Switzerland: late August, 1991_

Other early students would be arriving at Wyckham, unable to remain at home until September. Harry was eager, up well before 7am. He ate breakfast in his civvies, before changing into his Wyckham uniform, as was required once the early drop off began (Mondays being the exception).

Early drop off only occurred a week before school would officially begin for new students, but Harry had already seen a few Sixth Formers wandering the halls at night and eating in the restaurant.

None spoke to him, all engrossed with catching up on studies or getting ahead of their schoolwork, although most did offer him smiles when they passed in the halls.

However, today, first years would be joining. Anita had informed him in her office in Isele several nights ago that there were three first years joining him, but she didn't say their names.

Harry looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. _He looked smart_, he thought, tugging on his tie. The Wyckham Academy uniform consisted of dress slacks for the boys and optional for the girls, a white collared dress shirt underneath a jacket in navy blue, with "WA" embroidered over the heart.

Although Harry did as the Sixth Formers, hiding out in the library during the morning of the first of two drop off days, Harry did venture out after lunch back to his room for some quiet reading.

He was pleasantly surprised to find his bedroom door open and a young boy, taller than him and already wearing his Wyckham uniform, putting his things away in his set of drawers.

The boy was tall and had brown hair, but with a freckled complexion. He had a few British Quidditch posters on his side of the room, contrasting with Harry's FC Basel poster.

Harry knocked on the door and cleared his throat. "Um, hello," he began, assuming the boy spoke English. Harry and another Sixth Former had an awkward experience a week previous when they ran into each other from two different corners, falling to the floor and trying to apologise in Italian and English.

The boy looked up in surprise, turning fully to greet Harry with a smile. "Hello. I'm Terry Boot."

"Hi Terry," said Harry, stepping into the room. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Harry could tell it took considerable effort for Terry to not glance up at his scar, like he clearly wanted to; the boy persevered though, and kept his eyes level on Harry's, extending a hand to shake.

Harry took it, shaking it and smiling widely.

"Nice to meet you," said Terry instead.

"You too."

Terry turned back to his luggage, but paused and turned back to Harry, almost eyeing him. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could get some food, do you? I haven't had anything since my flight from Heathrow. Mum insisted I go by plane so that my Muggle cousins could see me off."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, sure I do. It's this way."

And as Harry led Terry out of the room they were going to share for four years, they began an easy conversation that became a debate about the merits of Quidditch versus football.

The two boys continued to talk well into their dinner, back to their room, and well into the night as Harry helped Terry put his things away. As Harry finally drifted off to sleep, listening to Terry's gentle snores, Harry thought, _I could get used to this_.

* * *

TBC…

* * *

**A note on Terry**: I decided to include Terry instead of fanon!Blaise as Harry's roommate for the reason that Terry was in Slughorn's class with Harry. He needed to have an O on his OWL, demonstrating his knowledge and practical applications of potions to have Snape give him that. Even as a half-blood (or Pureblood, although I'm having him as a Half), I would imagine that his parents would want him taught by the renowned Nicholas Flamel.

**Amendment**: A reviewer commented that Terry was considered "obnoxious" at first, but I figure that I was learnt personality to exist in Ravenclaw, as all but Luna seem to come off as assholes.

**On Anita/Dumbledore**: While it seems like Albus Dumbledore and Anita Hartz get on, not is what it seems. Albus and Anita are friends, socially – but when it comes to education and politics, they have _way_ different thoughts. Remember, Anita's fiancé was killed by Death Eaters; if that doesn't cause someone to hate magic, I don't know what would. Dumbledore also had his reason for sending Harry away – it might be a conscience, finally, or a motive in a darker plan. On a side note, I can't write a manipulative Dumbledore to save my ass, so even if you read "Greater Than, Lesser Be," you'll notice I rarely have Dumbledore scenes.

**The abuse situation at the Dursleys**: I think, overall, it's an entirely touchy subject. As readers, we know what Harry went through, as we see everything from his POV. However, despite Anita having several subjective pieces of paper and documentation, she has no real "hard" proof that can state that Harry was abused. And as long as the Dursleys or Harry never actually come out and **state** that he was mistreated or abused, the case has no basis. My father and I actually had this discussion last week when watching the recent "Glee" episode with Kurt and the football player. How far will you let abuse or harassment go, and how much can a teacher or person in authority do without proof? The answer is not much. Even with "suspect" abuse cases, you need a hell of a lot of proof before you can remove the child from the location to be placed in foster care. And let's be honest here - could we ever see Dumbledore doing that? I'm certain he knew what happened, especially with Figg around. Anita, however, as I tried to demonstrate in this chapter where she didn't know about the cupboard, manipulated Petunia into signing Harry over based on her flimsy documents and pieced together ideas. She doesn't know if Harry was abused; she just knows it's a bad situation and tried to take advantage of it.

**On Schooling methods**: Reggio Emilia is a not-so-well-known philosophy from Reggio Emilia, Italy, that was developed after WWII. It is meant for the Foundation Years (0-6) in Early Childhood Education and Primary. The premise is for natural elements to be brought into the classroom from outside, giving a natural environment where children explore and learn through their own decisions. The teacher then guides them along the curriculum so they cover the topics they need to, but there's a lot of KWL and scientific method base. For example, at my school, we use the Reggio philosophy and in SK we've already looked at the human body, space, spiders and snakes. It's also not "this is a snake. Look at his fangs." Reggio is more like, "Johnny likes snakes. This is a king cobra. This is a python. They give birth to live young. This is how their poison sacks work." You go into detail where the children want to learn. There's not a lot of information on Reggio Emilia that's in English, but Google can help you find a few websites if you're interested.

IB = International Baccalaureate.

As for Wyckham this time around, I've based some of it off of this Swiss school (which I can say that I've never been to; never knew existed until I was looking for Swiss jobs; and which I would be way too scared to apply to anyway. It is in English, btw, so you don't have to worry about translating anything):

http:/ www . rosey . ch /

Or Google "Le Rosey."

**Last note**: I still don't like Rowling's world too much, and it will probably come through Anita. Be warned. I don't play nice against the magical world. But I will give the Purebloods some benefit of the doubt… [Nov.28.10] Edits and amendments [Nov.30.10]


End file.
